


Mutationem

by BlueRam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8946664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRam/pseuds/BlueRam
Summary: Yes I ended the war. Voldemort was obviously mad, I had to defeat him...his cause had become too flawed, too...fanatical. Horcruxes did that to you. Didn't mean that the 'war had really ended'. I still had...we still had much to do, at least according to Luna at any rate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm, my first time writing this pairing. Hope it actually goes well.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 Harry smiled softly, a new sense of joy setting in as he watched the students of Hogwarts rejoice. The war…it was over, leaving behind destruction in its wake…but that was ok. They could rebuild, thrive in new hope and new peace with Mother Magic singing her praise in their ear, a gentle caress upon their heated skins. A loud cheer pulled his attention to the courtyard outside, a picture of rubble and dirt, dust still yet to settle dancing upon the winds, with the broken statue of the reaper of souls. The harbinger of death as the symbol of the Deathly hallow burned fiercely upon his exposed wrist. Harry did not wince, didn’t show much emotion as he watched the group of witches and wizards lift Ron in air, cheering on his blotchy faced friend.

Ron had come a long way, he had grown into competent wizard and though not without his flaws as they all were, would blossom into someone extraordinary as they pursued their new journey.

“Mr. Potter, day dreaming I see.” Minerva spoke primly, straighten the lapels of her ropes as she stood beside the silent wizard. If it were not improper for a dowager witch, she would have snorted when Harry hastily pulled the sleeves of his robes over his wrist, a sheepish grin when she had given him an unamused look. She could understand his haste to cover such a mark, to many it would seem nothing much, but she knew differently. One did work closely with a wizard such as Dumbledore and not learn a thing or two…especially something as obscure as the Deathly Hallows. The whole concept of a master of death brought about a great amount of unease, but she wouldn’t judge…wouldn’t go out of her way to condemn something she didn’t fully understand despite what little knowledge she had.

“He wasn’t lost you know…mad, but not lost.” Harry whispered suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence that had enveloped the two for just a moment. Overhead, the wind howled as it danced through archways and broken towers, debris tumbling down at the winds excitement and enlisting terrified screams from the wizards that walked below. Of course their fellow witches laughed at their actions, paying no more mind to the silly boys as they excitedly spoke about whatever it was that had caught their interest this time. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor…it was a beautiful thing to realize that if only for this moment, there were no divides between the groups.

The wizards who had screamed blushed to the tip of ears, laughing at themselves as they carried on, there was no shame to show momentary fear, and just like that they were on their way. The four houses merely one group, with their torn dusty robes and haphazard ties.

“Voldemort, I’ve never given him much thought past the monster he was…that he seemed to be.” Minerva amended quickly with a frown, quite aware of the curious eyes that stared at her in that unnerving way he often did the past few days. Over the years, the clumsy little boy had truly grown into himself…he was no longer a marionette dancing upon pulled string, and though he may not have become a puppeteer himself…he had become much more aware.

“Perhaps if only on that dreadful day at the orphanage—”

“Dreadful. Why was it dreadful, Professor? A terrible word to use, especially in reference to a child…don’t you think?” Harry’s voice was eerie, a strange smile across dusky lips as he pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. Hermione below waved up at him, a book clutched under her arm as she sought some peace from all the raucous, the strange Bulgarian wizard accompanying her.

Minerva frowned at the interruption, a reprimand at the tip of her tongue that quickly faded as she truly observed a young wizard so dear to her heart. She was right when she had observed his growth. He wasn’t particularly tall, average height the most so not particularly short either. His once bird’s nest of a hair had grown in length resting comfortably at his shoulder blades…still a birds nest though. He of course noticed her gaze, a strange smirk playing at his lips as if suddenly amused, emerald eyes sharp, spelling everything and nothing at the same time. For a moment the image of Tom Riddle overlapped with his own and Minerva, as strong as a witch she was, could not quite hide her flinch and careful step back to provide distance.

Harry looked away from the woman once more, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear once more, the wind blowing it out of place. Perhaps he should have taken Luna up on the offer to clip it back after all. It didn’t matter though, he would probably cut it soon.

“You say it was a dreadful day, but what you meant was that Tom Riddle was a dreadful boy…isn’t that right?” Minerva wanted to protest the words, especially with how callous Harry seemed to sound, but couldn’t find it in herself to. Suddenly the moment was gone and Harry gave a sheepish smile, nervously combing his hand through his hair, stopping midway when his sleeves fell yet again to reveal the mark of the Deathly Hallows. He seemed almost innocent with that sheepish smile, a boyish charm that his father possessed…yet, Minerva couldn’t help her sudden unease.

“Sorry, Sorry. I don’t know what got into me, I’m being silly…probably just nervous about my talk with—” Minerva frowned in sympathy, forgetting her unease for a moment as she placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, the wizard looking up in curiosity. His eyes were truly beautiful, and despite what many said…they weren’t really like Lily Potter.  Both were a beautiful green colour, crystal like yet both had varying depths a making of the walk of life that defined them.

“You don’t have to speak to hi—” Harry shook his head immediately as the woman began to speak, lightly pulling away from her with a strange easy smile. He turned away from her, robes fluttering around his feet as he began to walk away, his voice carrying a strange tone she couldn’t define.

“It’s not a matter of wanting to, professor. It’s…well, It doesn’t matter what it is does it?” Harry looked over his shoulder, green eyes glittering with all that was left unsaid.

* * *

 Snape refused to speak, no…it wasn’t that he refused, it was more the fact that he was assessing the peculiar situation. He was bed ridden, unable to move much propped up on too fluffy pillows and hideous knitted quilt thrown over his unresponsive legs. Temporarily paralyzed, Nagini’s venom was…potent to say the least. He should have been dead, his last deed upon Dumbledore’s behest completed. Yes he should have been dead…yet, he wasn’t; all credit given to the silent wizard that sat at his bedside, hands folded in his lap as green eyes stared at him unwavering.

“And to what do I owe…your  _esteemed_  company.” Snape drawled, gaze set steady ahead, finding no need to stare into emerald eyes so similar to hers, but oh so different, disgustingly different. He could feel the smirk on the boy’s face, Harry tilting his head carefully.

“Gratitude he has not for thine savior. Such is the life of mortal enemies, forever without an accord…forever frozen in a song of hatred.” It was poetic, strange from the lips of a wizard who never seemed to have much interest in the fine arts of wizarding culture. It was a quote from his mother’s book…one of the few things that proved that if only for a moment she had lived. Many would expect him to be angry, curse at the child who would dare throw his mother’s words at him, as if he were so entitled.  He wasn’t angry though…far from it. In truth despite what the world thought, he felt nothing for Harry Potter past the connection he had to the woman he had loved…still loved.

“Forgive me, your majesty. A spot of tea perhaps, a blanket for your cold feet even.” Snape leveled Harry with an unamused stare, black eyes revealing nothing as he wondered yet again why the wizard was here. His eyes took note how at ease the boy, no...man was, something held in his right hand.

“I don’t like you. I don’t hate you either…I don’t feel much of anything towards you to tell the truth. The same could be said for you I wager…Master Snape.” An acknowledgement of his title earned at such a young age. A true feat of genius and hard work.

“I used to think your treatment unfair, I was too young to understand…not to mention a pitiful orphan searching for acceptance for once in my life. It wasn’t hard to believe the tales of my father’s good deeds and your utter contempt for him and hatred for him…the man that stole the woman you loved.” Harry’s smile would almost seem cruel…almost contradicting his earlier statement of feeling nothing for Snape.

“Yet, that assessment is untrue. It was my father who was mercilessly cruel, he was a bully no matter how many would like to glorify and exalt his deeds in his youth. Harmless pranks…yes?” Harry frowned, as if talking to himself. Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy…could he even be called that. He was twenty-one years old, forced to fight a war that he had never truly been prepared to fight. He would have had sympathy for him once in his life he thought, as it were…the boy didn’t need it, nor did he care to give it.

“What do you want? Word games I’m afraid, will never be your strong suit, Potter. Best to leave that to wizards who actually possess the cognitive skills to do so.” Snape sneered, having enough of the useless chatter that in the long run meant nothing to him.

Harry laughed lightly, right hand finally unclenching to reveal a simple necklace, the pendant a preserved daisy within a crystal. Snape’ stoic expression broke if only for a fraction of a second, dark eyes flittering from the wizard’s hand to beautiful green eyes.

“What is thi—?!” Snape began, anger burning bright for a moment, yet Harry interrupted him. His voice too calm, too easy…as if he did not hold a private memory he had no right to hold, even if Lily was his mother!

“A daisy. That day you held her hand and showed her that she was a witch and that she shouldn’t be afraid of what she was. Together a flower bloomed and friendship reigned forevermore.” Harry whispered as if it was some conspiracy, holding out the necklace, a childish wonder in his eyes as he watched the crystal spin.

Without a word he placed it within Snape’s outstretched palm. The man hadn’t even realized he had reached out, losing himself in memories of old…the strong chains that wrapped around his heart loosening for just a moment.

“She asked one thing of me when I walked to my apparent death. The hallows do strange things you see…it wasn’t really her…a shade perhaps…but…she loves you, she forgives you. It might not be the love that you wanted, but it... love is…love.” Finally that smile slipped from Harry’s face, he now resembled more the Harry knew. A serious confused boy that didn’t believe in the authority of adults, for what had they ever done for him? He stood from his seat, eyes fierce, ready for battle, almost as if the one waged earlier had never ended.

“It’s obvious that you know, Snape.” Harry glared, unsurprised as dark fearless eyes held his own. Without a word, Snape clenched the necklace in his hand, resting said atop his unmoving thigh.

“Know what? That you aren’t as light as you present yourself to be, even as the defeater of Voldemort? Or is that…Tom Riddle still lives, and this world won’t see the war he wages until it is too late?’ Snape sneered, suddenly tired of it all.

“It’s like he said, you would always know. He offers immunity…stay out of his way and he grants you your life.” Harry spoke simply, tracing the circle that represented the resurrection stone upon his wrist.

“You speak as if you haven’t already casted the spell should I defy him. You are not as subtly as you believe.” Snape drawled, dark eyes watching as tendril of magic wrapped around the crystallized Lily and then sank into his skin. It was beautiful, delicate really, even as he watched green vines spiraling up his arms, the colour of Harry’s eyes, then settling around his neck like a vice. He did not react, even at the pain, it was nothing compared to the torture he had endured in his life…at least for that moment. He knew with just the taste of Harry’s magic, how quickly his tune could change in light of the wizard’s will.

“I did mean it you know. I don’t particularly feel anything for you, my actions are only in response to the true threat you represent.” Harry carried on, waiting for the man to give is answer…his life or death. Tom had beautiful plans for their world, free of his madness…a revolution that he himself would see come to life. Not all wars were physical, Tom Riddle would play chess yet again, the political arena his battle field. There was a new unity ushered in by Voldemort’s defeat, but how long would it last? How long until prejudice and ignorance would rise its head again in light of outdated legislations and entitled corrupt men? No…he would not allow that. He would not allow Wizarding Britain to play ostrich, not with the things Luna saw, not with the muggle world becoming a threat they would not keep at bay if they did not advance along with it.

“Answer me one thing, Potter. What assurance do you give that Tom Riddle will not fall to madness like Voldemort did? Their goals in the initial stages are fueled by the same thing. Are they not?” Snape’s point was valid, Harry would admit that…but even a valid point held its own flaws. He had gotten his answer regardless, was satisfied with it, though he knew Tom might have wanted for something more dramatic in the end. The wizard dare claim he wasn’t a diva.

He only smiled that strange smile he so often wore these days, as if he knew something that no one else did…well, wasn’t that the truth?

“Are they?” Harry queried, obviously amused. Snape realized then that throughout their entire conversation he had missed something…and even in his new found awareness, he still could not place what exactly he was missing. He watched as the wizard left the room as silently as he had come, leaving with him the crystal necklace that belonged to Lily.

“Your son…he might not be his father, and perhaps that in itself is a terrifying thing. For unlike  _James Potter_ , no one will be left standing should they get in his way.” Snape smirked lightly, sighing as he closed his eyes and allowed himself some much needed rest. He wondered…what would Dumbledore think of his precious golden boy now?

* * *

 “You certainly took your time.” Harry didn’t bother hiding the roll of his eyes as he entered the familiar clearing. It was where he had walked to his ‘death’, Voldemort the poor unsuspecting wizard believing in that moment that the cards were in his favour. Tom stood as tall as he ever was, a pocket watch in his gloved hand, ticking quite loudly, before he placed it in his pocket. He resembled greatly the memory he had encountered in his third year at Hogwarts. The horcrux that had been quite arrogant and self-assured. Well…this Tom was still those things, he was the very same soul that had lived in that diary, gaining corporal form by robbing the life of an unsuspecting Umbridge that had somehow gotten her hands on the dairy after the chamber of secrets incident.

He would have pointed fingers at Malfoy, after all he was the last person in possession of what should have been a destroyed horcrux, but he had enough information to believe otherwise. Harry was brought out of his muse by the feel of warm leather on his cheek.

“Daydreaming. How plebeian.” Tom drawled, and unimpressed eyebrow raised at Harry’s sharp glare.

“If not for your last words, I would have said you sounded like McGonagall, Tom.” Harry muttered, not even bothering to put up with Tom’s affronted stare.

“Don’t call me—!” Tom began furiously only to be silenced by a delicate finger to his lips.

“And that my dear  _Tom_ , is a vulnerability your enemies will use against you if given the chance.” Harry smirked, flittering away from the wizard when it seemed he would actually pull his wand this time…not that the man truly needed it. Not after gaining corporal form and quickly aging from a young teen to man of thirty.  A man that somehow regained all the magical gifts and proficiency that Voldemort himself had.

“Remind me why I put up with you again?” Tom drawled, dark eyes with a strange tint of red, piercing…it was terrifying really. The man’s full gaze was not something anyone with sense would want fully focused upon them…that spoke about Harry himself didn’t it? He actually reveled in it, enjoyed provoking the man and watching is carefully constructed composure fracture at its center.

“Because you’ll need me? After all, I’m the boy—who—conquered. I will always earn the wizarding world's favour…an asset I believe in the political world don’t you think?” Harry whispered slyly, invading the man’s personal space even when he towered over him. Dark eyes of course remained upon him, an intense stare that would not leave him perhaps for an eternity. Harry smirked as he pressed against the man’s firm chest, a hand trailing up the defined muscles he could feel.

“Because I’m the only one who could ever understand, and I see your vision for what it is…even if we disagree and so many things as it relates to said plans.” Harry tipped up on his toes this time, hand’s gripping Tom’s modern cut robes as he spoke against Tom’s thin lips.

“Or maybe…because I am the mother of your unborn child, and even if you won’t admit it, you  _love_  me.” It wasn’t surprising when strong hands so suddenly gripped him by his arms, or when he was harshly pulled against the man’s chest, his deep baritone a threatening hiss in his ear.

“Mi thinks the vixen grows too bold.” Tom smirked against the shell of Harry’s ear, a wicked gleam when he felt the obvious shiver that ran through Harry’s body. Harry looked up from beneath full eyelashes, and almost coy look about him as he bit his lip.

“ _Mi thinks_ …” Harry whispered, green eyes piercing in that moment, so fierce that Tom couldn’t hope to look away. A distraction that didn’t prepare him for the wand that was suddenly dug into his groin.

“The vixen has grown as he should, even in the shadow of a snake lord!” Harry smirked, pulling away from the man as if they hadn’t shared a moment of intimacy with underlying murderous intent. They were…a strange pair to say the least…no one could hope to understand their relationship. Did they love each other…or…

“A trip to America didn’t you say? Why are we still standing here,  _Tom_?” Harry muttered, turning away from the man for a moment, only to be pulled gently by his arm against the man’s chest yet again. Harry would have protested the hold, if not for the sudden sprawl of elegant fingers over the slight swell of his abdomen.

“My goal…is that I will create a world where our child will be safe, protected from the prejudice of ignorant minds and be rich in their heritage. Build a world where they will understand the value of  _that_  which I have never truly understood.” Tom spoke seriously, caressing the swell lovingly as flashes of a terrible future played across his mind. The words of a seer that Harry seemingly befriended. The young man never failed to surpass all his expectations. Making powerful friends, odd friends without even trying.

“And we will.” Harry smiled softly, placing his hands over Tom’s own. The man looked up at those words, something odd shining in his eye, before the moment was lost a chaste kiss placed upon Harry’s lips. Harry didn’t allow the man to pull away, deepening the kiss with an arm around the man’s neck, their hands intertwining over their unborn child.

Pulling back, Harry smiled before resting his head against Tom’s chest, sighing at the soothing rhythm of Tom’s heart.

“Do you think it’s a girl or boy?” Harry whispered, allowing himself a moment of young mother’s joy.

“They will be whoever they will be when they grow and find themselves.” Tom drawled, gently poking Harry’s nose as he finally pulled away, pulling out his pocket watch again.

“Huh. I would have figured you a fossil thinker, steeped in tradition and the set rules or whatever they call it.” Harry teased with no shame, even as Tom rolled his eyes at him pocketing his watch again as he began to walk ahead, hands in the pockets of his robes.

“Come along, Harry. Politics waits for no man,a delicate game it is. Not that you ever cared, allowing McGonagall to witness the deathly hallows mark on your wrist…and yes, I was watching you.” Tom drawled, refusing to even acknowledge Harry’s earlier statement. Harry could only shake his head at the man’s quickly changing moods…not that he was anyone to talk, before catching up with his long strides. Minerva was a formidable witch yes, but she would pose no risk…at least if she suddenly found herself sympathetic to a wizard that must suffer immortality while others around him grew old.  He could have sworn Tom heard his thoughts, the man bestowing him a put up on look.

“By the way, Hermione demands she be the godmother and Ron wants to be the godfather. We should—”

“Remove the very thought from your mind, Potter!” Tom glared, as he interrupted the wizard, not amused when he childishly stuck his tongue out at him.


End file.
